


blurred lines

by lusterrdust



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beggie, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Riverdale AU, Tutoring, Unexpected Friendship, a blend of both show and comics, slight post-breakup bughead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:46:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: Betty needs a distraction. Reggie needs a tutor. Lines are drawn. [beggie, au]DISCONTINUED





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ugh, why do i always start fics before my other ones are complete?! 
> 
> i have a bad habit
> 
> more beggie love - unbeta'd, and no doubt riddled with errors. sorry xo

It’s been a rough school year for Betty Cooper, and she’s barely a month into it.

Dealing with her parent’s break up, as well as her own, she finds it difficult to concentrate through the days now; she's constantly getting lost in thought while mulling the _could’ve, should’ve, would’ves_ to most all aspects of her life. With Veronica and Archie spending every waking moment together, and Kevin keeping busy with his new part time job at the local supermarket, she’s come to realize her little social circle needs a bit of expanding.

She needs a…distraction, of sorts.

“Blondie, blondie, blondie.” A familiar voice cuts through her musings. “May I say your ponytail is looking _extra_ bouncy today.”  

Betty fiddles with the knob on her locker, twisting it until the door pops open and hides the arrogant face of one Reggie Mantle behind it. Still, from her peripheral, he leans with one arm against the locker beside her own and continues, despite her silence.

“I have a request for you, involving yours truly.”

She doesn’t spare him a glance. “No.”

Reggie tsks as his hand tugs the locker further open until his head is in view once more. “What’s this?” he raises an eyebrow in pure exaggerated fashion. “ _Peer Mentor_ Betty Cooper refusing to help a fellow _peer_ in need? Just think of the disappointment on old Weatherbee’s face when he finds out his golden girl has refused to—”

“ _Okay_.” Her locker slams shut and stuffs her books into her backpack, her eyes snapping up to Reggie’s smug face in exasperation. Pursing her lips, she shoulders her bag and starts to walk away, fully expecting him to follow. “What exactly do you need help with?”

He slings an arm over her shoulder, garnering a few curious looks from passing students as she hugs herself, not expecting the display of false camaraderie between them both. Her brows draw together when he lowers his voice and explains quietly.

“Since you’re part of the River Vixens, you may have noticed Coach named me Captain of the Bulldogs for the third year in—”

“Point.” Betty cuts him off impatiently, finally shrugging his arm off her shoulder as a group of girls look their direction and whisper behind their hands. “Get to it.”

Rolling his eyes, Reggie steps before her and halts her steps, finally getting her to look up at him. “You write for that one thing, right? For the school?”

She lifts a curious brow. “The newspaper?”

He snaps his fingers at her, grinning. “Yeah! So, you’re good with writing and English and stuff.”

She’s still not following. “…I guess?”

“I may be good at a lot of things,” he lowers his voice further, stepping closer as her eyes widen to his complete disregard for her personal space. “ _but_ it turns out, English isn’t one of them. You have a once in a lifetime opportunity to bust out your tutoring skills for the Reg-meister.”  

Betty refrains from snorting. “Wow, Reg, when you put it like that, how could I ever pass up such an honor?”

Oblivious as always, Reggie merely widens his grin as her sarcasm flies right over his head. “You really do live up to your good-girl repertoire, don’t you, blondie?”

“Forget it, Reggie.” Betty finally says, moving around his broad form as she walks away. “You couldn’t keep up with me.”

For a brief moment, he looks torn between deflating to her refusal or creating an innuendo from her words. He sticks with the former.

“Okay, listen—” he stops her again, lightly holding onto her elbow as he leans forward once more to speak in a more serious tone. His face is adamant now, no traces of teasing to be found. “I really need your help on this one, Cooper. If I don’t get my grade up, Coach is gonna cut me from the team, and I just can’t afford for that to happen… _Please_.”

She really shouldn’t have looked into his eyes just then, because one of the many things she’ll come to learn about Reggie in due time, is that he’s got the wounded puppy look down _pat_. Even his lips purse just the slightest bit more pronounced from his usual natural pout.

“…Alright.” She relents with a nod and sigh, looking over her shoulder quickly to discreetly check if people were still staring at them. Her gaze snaps back to Reggie and she refrains from frowning at his beaming expression. “But given that you have football and I have cheerleading, we need to figure out a time that works for both of us.”

“Easy.” He shrugs, looking oddly relaxed for someone who’s on the brink of getting kicked off his team. “The Vixens have their short days on Tuesdays and Thursdays too, don’t they? Why don’t we meet up in your little news room after our practices?”

“Okay, yeah. That works.” She nods, surprised at his quick thinking before tilting her head suspiciously at him. “Just how low is your grade exactly? And what’s our deadline to get it back up?”

His eyes run down her form at the choice of words she uses, his lips curling in that aggravating manner she’s not quite used to. “Still think I won’t be able to keep up with you, blondie?”  

Betty gives him a dry look, her tone clipped when she responds, “ _Reggie_.”  

“I have until Winter Break to bring my grade up to at least an eighty.” He continues, losing some of his vibrato as its replaced with a somewhat more serious tone.

She looks at him in apprehension, raising a brow as her fingers play with the cuffs of her sleeves. “And your grade now?”

“Fourty-two.” He answers, not the least bit sheepish.

Her eyes widen in shock and it’s all she can do not to sputter like an idiot until she’s quickly replying. “It’s almost November!”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “So?”

Her lips part before she’s shaking her head. “ _So_ —that means we only have a little over a month to raise your grade up nearly forty percent!”

“Not up for the challenge, Cooper?” he teases, only the slightest bit of apprehension to his question. Given the tense stance he’s sporting and the little twinge of uncertainty in his eyes, Betty takes a small amount of pity on him and continues to fiddle with her sleeves.

“Okay.” She bites her lip, running her fingers through the curls of her ponytail before looking his way. “We can do this— _I_ can do this. But you have to promise to give a hundred percent! _No_ slacking! I want your full commitment, Mantle!”

“Knew you’d be the assertive type, blondie. You know, putting a man on lockdown and all.” he teases, relaxing at her agreement to help though the joke forces another eyeroll from her. “The Reg-meister gives his word. I promise to give you my all.”

Betty grimaces and holds a hand up, stopping him short. “And stop with this ‘Reg-meister’. Really, the whole third person referrals in general. Just…no.”  

It’s Reggie’s turn to roll his eyes, but he eventually lifts his hand and gives a two-finger mock salute. “Sure thing, boss.”

She nods curtly, folding her arms into herself while shuffling awkwardly on her feet and wondering what to do now. She ends up attempting to close this exchange between them. “So… we’ll meet up tomorrow after practice.”

“Sounds good.” He runs a hand through his hair and lets his eyes trail after a few Junior girls who walk by—the blatant checking out of their backsides forcing Betty to crinkle her nose in distaste.

Shaking her head, she scoffs and readjusts her backpack before moving to walk away. “Meet me in the Blue and Gold at five. Don’t be late.”

Snapping his attention back to her, Reggie gives a slow nod. “Sure. Wait—the Blue and Gold?”

“The _newsroom_.” Betty replies flatly, pushing past him.

“Right.” His voice falters as she slips into the sea of students. “News room… shouldn’t be hard to find. Hey, Midge—!”

 _Great_ , she thinks, glancing over her shoulder to see him trail after the short haired brunette. She’s willingly just accepted to spend nearly four solid hours a week with Riverdale High’s most notorious ladies’ man. On top of her own work, she wonders _why_ exactly she’s agreed to help him.

Stifling a groan, Betty squares her shoulders and feigns a polite smile for a teacher passing by.  Too late to back out now, she grumbles internally.

There’s definitely going to have to be some drawing of lines though. First thing tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd
> 
> thank you sooo much for the support and love on this fic and this pairing in general! so happy there are a few of us beggie shippers drifting out here haha! i really appreciate the feedback y'all give xo

This is an incredible mistake, Betty thinks as she sits in the Blue & Gold office.

Tapping her pencil against the desk with the nearly gone eraser, she listens to the overhead clock tick in a mocking fashion over her decision to even stick around and wait for him.

Reggie freaking Mantle. Notoriously _late_ , Reggie freaking Mantle. On his first tutoring lesson, no less.  

Her own homework sits in front of her as she’d pulled it out to pass the time and she sighs, glancing once more to the clock above. Just another ten minutes, she thinks to herself as the little finger approaches the seven. Checking her phone, she wishes she hadn’t passed Archie and Veronica's offer for dinner at Pop’s. She’d rather be a slight third wheel to their incessant PDA than being stood up for a study date.

“Ugh,” she mumbles to herself, grabbing her things and throwing them into her backpack as the door to the office opens to let the person of her irritation come bustling in. Pausing mid-action in zipping up her bag, Betty gives the freshly showered Reggie a small glare and slowly puts her backpack to the side. “You’re late.”

Infuriatingly, Reggie just smiles at her and drags the chair nearest him to the spot adjacent to her on the table. “Sorry. Coach had to talk to me after practice. Come on, I’m only…” he glances to the clock before wincing at the time. “…forty minutes late.”

If Betty knew he’d gone and taken his sweet time to shower after practice, she might’ve stayed in the locker room to take her own and get out of her cheer outfit. The weather is starting to get cold, and her legs are crying out in protest to their bare nakedness against the frigid air.

“Let’s just get started, shall we?” she sighs, pushing a few flyaways from her face as Reggie pulls his own work out in front of them. “If I’m not home before my mom is, she’ll harass the entire Sheriff’s Department about it until I arrive, and maybe even then some. I’m not out to ruin anyone’s work night.”

Reggie chuckles lightly in response and shrugs lazily. “Good to know she cares that much though, right?”

It’s said so offhandedly—so obliviously unaware to the many questions it’ll bring up in her own curious mind by the tone alone. Reggie simply looks down at his papers and starts to lay them out.

Betty cocks her head slightly, studying his profile as he leafs through one particular packet. She’d been expecting a more scathing remark toward her mother and the infamous blaze of tired fire she leaves trailing after her—especially since he’d been a witness to one of her tirades many months ago.

“…Right.” She answers finally before scooting her chair closer to begin their lesson.

For the first hour, things go smoother than expected.

She doesn’t know why, but she’d expected Reggie to be distracted and make her volunteering harder than necessary, but surprisingly, he’s listening to her with intense focus and participating in the help she offers. He’s got a crinkle between his brows as he works on a particular paragraph structure, and Betty realizes with hot cheeks that _she’s_ the one getting distracted.

It’s not completely embarrassing; Reggie is an attractive guy and he knows it. No, it’s only slightly embarrassing when he catches her staring and somehow makes it all the worse when his lips tilt upward in that infuriating grin before he shoots a wink her way.

“Ogling the goods, Cooper?” he teases, placing his arms on the table and stretching before a yawn slips past his lips. “Can’t say I blame you.”

“I was distracted by your ability to pay attention, actually.” She quips back quickly, relaxing over his easy going tone. Her attention falls back to his work as she looks it over, running her finger over the neat writing and nodding in approval at what she sees. “This… isn’t bad, Reg.”

Not bad at all.

“You know, if you actually _do_  your work and try not to slack off the entire period, you could easily average out a B.” She tells him, only lightly putting a bit of lecture into her tone.

“Reading about a dude with ‘mommy issues’ isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.” He remarks. "It's boring. And overrated."

Mommy issues? Confused, Betty looks at his essay to double check the title. “What are you talking about? You’re reading Hamlet.”

Reggie looks at her as if not following. “Yeah?”

Betty blinks, puzzled. “Hamlet isn’t about… there’s not—”

“Everything would’ve been a lot smoother if the mom didn’t marry the uncle, right?” he questions with a lazy shrug and throwing her for a loop while he continues his writing. “Then she thinks Hamlet is crazy and gets that one dude behind the curtain killed when she gets emotional—”

“ _Hamlet_ did that.” Betty intervenes with furrowed brows. “Gertrude was calling out for help.”

“Why not trust her own son? Why not take his feelings into account?” he retorts. “He was only trying to avenge his dad's murder. Which let’s not forget, was the uncle’s fault all along.”

“Yeah, but—”

“If the mom wasn’t so selfish, maybe all the shit the characters went through wouldn’t have happened.” He states, finishing his paper and sliding it over for her to read through for a final time. “How’s this?”

Still frowning at Reggie’s interpretation over a famous and beloved play, Betty takes the paper and reads carefully, marking over with her red pen at the many spelling and grammatical errors. It’s mostly silent as she reads, only the sound of a pudding cup’s foil being lifted when Reggie pulls one out of his backpack to eat.

She rereads it once more before nodding her head and sliding it back to him. “Definitely a different take, but… it’s good.” She says honestly, watching his smile widen in ease before he stuffs a spoon in his mouth. Chuckling softly, Betty runs a hand over her hair and dips her head. “If this doesn’t get a good score, it might be safe to say Miss Hagley is biased.”

“I could probably sweet talk her into giving me an A.” he boasts with a wiggle of his brows.

Betty rolls her eyes in amusement as she gathers her belongings. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if you could.”

His brows raise in challenge, grin still on his face. “You don’t think I can sweet talk an eighty-year old woman into doing my bidding?”

She snorts. “I don’t think you can sweet talk _any_ woman into doing your bidding.”

He raises his finger at her as he stands. “Bet you I can. Come on, fifty bucks.”

“Careful, Reggie. Underage gambling is illegal.” She jokes as they make their way out of the office and into the school’s hallways.

“So’s selling dope and vandalism, yet here we are.” he gestures to a particular wall covered in graffiti.

Betty tenses, her smile dropping as his words hit a little too close to home. It’s obvious by the way he stops and looks down at her that he hadn’t meant it geared toward anyone _specific_ —but there’s only one person that comes to mind.

Reggie grimaces and cautiously continues, knowing exactly who her thoughts lead to. “As much as I despise that egghead, I really hadn’t meant him. I know I’m an asshole eighty percent of the time, but—"

“It’s fine.” Betty quickly interjects before walking forward in quick strides. Reggie jogs up and stays at her side.

 _Him_. Jughead Jones. Her ex-boyfriend.

Her now dope-selling, graffiti gang tagging ex-boyfriend.

There’s an awkward silence between them both before Betty glances over and murmurs quietly, eager to change the subject, “Also, it’s more like ninety-nine percent.”

“Huh?”

“You’re an asshole ninety-nine percent of the time.” Her lips lift in a tiny, teasing smile. Sure, her heart aches a bit at the reminder of the friend and boyfriend she’d lost, but time has a funny way of healing broken things. Her breakup has been difficult—horrendously so; but the last couple months haven’t hurt as much, and hell, she’ll take any grain of healing she can.

Reggie laughs outright to her comment, tossing his empty pudding cup in a trash bin just far away enough that his aim impresses her when it lands inside. “You just haven’t seen the best sides of me, blondie.”

“Really?” she exhales in dry amusement, focusing on the conversation at hand. “I didn’t know you had a best _anything_.”

His arm slides around her waist before he pulls her closer, their hips bumping as they continue to walk side by side. Lowering his face, his breath feels warm on her cheek as he responds. “That’s ‘cause I haven’t given you a peek.”

Betty only shakes her head, the smile still trying not to spread over his annoyingly infectious good mood. Sure, it’s doused with conceited narcissism, but hey, it’s still a good mood.

When they walk outside, it’s then that Betty realizes he’s still got his arm around her.

It’s really not a big deal. Hell, she’s used to the affectionate hugs and cuddles from both Veronica and her sister Polly, but she hasn’t been held like _this_ in quite some time. Hanging off the arm of someone in a close and... _couple-y_  type way. Even Archie’s hugs were quick and fleeting. Obviously, there's no way Reggie's even thinking the gesture as a couple-y one. He's always been a close quarters type of guy.

Come to think of it, Reggie is constantly touching his friends, Betty realizes. Perhaps he’s just that type of person, she muses while glancing over at him again while he talks about something or other. Or perhaps he’s starved for affection. Frowning, she wonders if that could be a possibility at all. When she thinks about it in depth, he’s always got his hands on his friends’ shoulders or his arm around a girl. Even sitting there in the Blue & Gold he’d had his shoe tapping against her sneaker. She’d put it off as a tick, but maybe it’s something else.

 _Jesus_! Betty shakes out of her musings as she once again catches herself staring at him. Or maybe she’s overanalyzing something completely unnecessary for the millionth time in pure Betty Cooper fashion.

“Here.” The warmth of his arm leaves her when his hand slides off her waist, and before she can question what, Reggie’s draping his letterman jacket over her. “For as many favors that little skirt is doing for your body,” he raises a suggestive brow, “I can’t imagine keeping you warm is one of them.”

She doesn’t know if he’s teasing or flirting, and really, she doesn't know if she's more annoyed over _that_ fact, or the one where she's thinking so hard about it enough to care. 

Betty shakes her head and means to give it back. “Oh, Reggie, no. No, I’m fine.”

“You’re shivering, Betty.” He throws it back over her shoulders, tugging the lapels until her fingers reach out to grip them. “I can hear your teeth clattering from here.”

Darn. They are, aren’t they?

When they reach the parking lot, she realizes they should’ve split ways back at the school entrance for her to walk home in the right direction.

Double darn.

Reggie twirls the keys to his Mustang on his finger, his head swiveling left and right as he inspects the empty lot. Looking back toward her, he props an elbow onto the curve of his open door. “You need a ride?”

She won’t lie and say she’s not tempted to see the interior of the Mustang. It’s this year’s newest model after all, and there’s no way she’ll _ever_ admit to the racing of her blood when a good sports car revvs up in its exhaust mode—which she’s very aware Reggie does constantly to show off.

Her fingers curl around the too-long sleeves of his jacket and she nods, succumbing to her interest. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

He smiles and climbs into the vehicle. “Hop in.”

Walking around the front, she makes her way to the passenger’s side and settles in, running her hand over the seat in admiration. “Wow.”

There’s that smug look on his face again as he studies her reaction. “Impressed?”

The seats feel lovely and she can’t help herself but to ask, “Is this Alcantara suede?”

The lines of his face shift slightly as he regards her with proud satisfaction. “And leather.” he presses something and spins back to face her, holding a hand up. “And check this; heated and ventilated seating. Let ol’ Reg warm those thighs up for you.”

Betty swats an arm at his chest, snorting at the double entendre. He merely snickers at her reaction and starts the engine before fiddling with the toggles to activate the exhaust system. “Now listen to this beauty.” he says, pressing his foot on the gas as the engine comes alive.

Her skin breaks out in goosebumps as the seats beneath her rumble with the sound. She leans forward to study the many buttons and screen in the center of the dash and whistles lowly. “I can only imagine what's under the hood.”

His head turns back toward her and he chuckles before pulling out of the parking space. “Almost forgot you’re a little grease monkey. You stopped showing up at the auto shop.” he pauses before adding, "In February." 

Of course she's stopped going. And from the knowing look in his eye, he already knows why.

“I’ve been busy!” she defends heatedly, leaning back into the seat and crossing her arms as her thoughts drift back to Jughead.

Reggie lifts his hands slightly from the wheel in a surrendering gesture. “Whoa, don’t bite my head off, blondie. Everyone’s got their own shit, I get it.” he glances over at her and adds as an afterthought, “Put your seatbelt on.”

She buckles up and looks out the window.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, almost awkwardly so with the tense air between them, before the speakers blare with music.

Betty startles and turns to see Reggie drumming his hands against the steering wheel, biting his lip and dancing in an obviously dramatic fashion. He doesn't say sorry for bringing her thoughts to Jughead again, but the multiple glances at her show he's trying to lighten the mood between them. 

He rolls his window down as they come to a traffic light and points at the vehicle beside them, singing along to the tune of _No Scrubs_ in a very off-key manner _._  Despite her irritation to his earlier comment, Betty laughs in embarrassment when the older couple in the car over stare at them strangely, talking to themselves and trying to avoid Reggie’s obnoxious display.

She grabs his shirt sleeve and shakes with laughter. “Reggie!”

The lights turn green and he revvs the engine before pealing away from the bewildered old couple.

Reggie only laughs with her before he rolls his window up. Betty’s sliding down into her seat and covering her mouth to keep the giggles from spilling out as they speed through traffic. She hadn’t a clue about his music preferences before this, but his playlist of R&B oldies is an almost fitting discovery as the drive continues.

Reggie lowers the volume when they approach her house and shifts gears into park before he’s opening his car door. Betty reaches with both hands out to grasp his forearm, her eyes wide. “Wait! What’re you doing?”

Her sister's car is parked in front of the garage and she wonders about her mother’s reaction if she were to pull up and see him outside. Her mother doesn’t know Reggie—not _really_ —and she’d rather keep the poor guy off her radar.

He merely cocks a brow up before untangling himself from her grip. “Giving you a peek.”

With that, he walks out of the car, leaving her sitting there puzzled before he’s at her side, opening the door for her. She’s still sitting, staring at him in confusion.  

Reggie gives her a look and leans himself onto the open door. “What? I can be gentlemanly.”

A peek. _Oh_! A peek to his 'best' sides.

“You’re an idiot.” She laughs quietly, getting out of the car and shouldering her bag into a comfortable position.

The sun’s already set now, and the evening chill makes her shiver. The street has a few houses decorated with Halloween décor, but her own home sits bare. Her mother refrains from letting the evil spirits of the ‘fake holiday’ invade their house.

“A devilishly handsome one?” he smirks, reaching for a compliment.

“Devil, yes.” She counters with a curve of her lips. “Handsome? That’s subjective.”

Reggie scoffs, though the teasing smirk remains intact. “That’s just what ugly people say to make themselves feel better, and what attractive people say to be nice.”

Betty rolls her eyes and turns her heel to walk away. “Good _night_ , Reggie.”

He closes the door and folds his arms, the smirk on his face widening into a crooked grin. “What? No kiss goodbye? No 'thank you' hug?”

“Your ego could use a bit of bruising.” She tosses over her shoulder, walking up the steps to her porch. Opening the door, she sees him already at the driver’s side, leaning onto the roof of the car as he waits for her to head into her home. “You’ll heal quickly.”

“You’re breaking my heart over here, Cooper.”

“Goodnight.” She repeats in a singsong voice before shutting the door behind her.

From the foyer of her home, she hears his car start with the added kick of his engine and chuckles quietly when Marvin Gaye’s _Sexual Healing_ blasts from the curb of her home and into the open windows of her living room.  


	3. Chapter 3

Betty squares her shoulders, wrapping the letterman jacket in her grip primly over her arm as she walks into school the next day.

She’d completely forgotten to give it back to Reggie the night prior, and judging by the way he’d made no comment over it after dropping her off at home, he’d forgotten as well. Veronica had offered her a ride to school this morning, along with Archie, but wanting to avoid questioning—as well as Archie’s flattering, but admittedly overbearing, protective streak—she’d politely declined.

She just needs to find Reggie before her friends try and make a big ordeal out of something as small as a loaned pieced of clothing. It was simply a kind act of consideration. Pausing slightly, Betty snorts to herself at piecing _that_ sentence to that of Reggie Mantle. 

“Move out of the way, Thumbelina!”

Ah.

There he is.

Picking on Dilton Doiley. 

Scratch her earlier thought. Reggie is still one hundred percent a bona fide jerk.

Betty grimaces and picks the pace up in her steps as she watches Reggie and some of his jock friends bustle past Dilton, knocking over a large box in his arms. The loud clangs and clunks of metal and aluminum parts scatter onto the floor, along with a stack of papers that scatter through careless teens who trample right over them.

Anger flares deep in the pit of Betty's stomach when Reggie and his friend do nothing but laugh uproariously when Dilton scrambles to pick up his things.

She stomps over, garnering Reggie’s attention as he grins at her arrival, but Betty slams his jacket to his chest, winding him with the strength of it before kneeling down to help Dilton pick his things up.

“What is _wrong_ with you guys?” she demands heatedly, feeling their eyes burn on her back as she carefully places Dilton’s things back in his box. She's not one for being dramatic—that's definitely Cheryl Blossom's territory—but she can't stand the sight of people being so... so _rude!_

“Thanks, Betty.” Dilton murmurs, adjusting his glasses back upright as he hoists his belongings back up.

“What?" Reggie slings his jacket over his shoulder and rolls his eyes at her accusatory look with a mild tone. “He’s just so small, I didn’t see him coming. Don’t worry, Doiley, you’re probably just a late bloomer. Maybe you can hang with the big guys when you’re a couple more feet off the ground.”

“The only _big_ thing here is your head, Reggie Mantle.” Betty snaps as all good opinions of him disintegrate by his complete disregard for respect and human decency. “And Moose, I would’ve expected more from you. Dilton’s twice the men you are! You’re just a bunch of—of-" she grasps for the word, ignoring the frowns on their faces as she finally blurts out, "of bullies!”

“Betty, it’s okay—” Dilton tries to coax her away, but she’s not having it. If there’s anything she’s learned these past two years, thanks to Veronica mostly, it’s that you should say what you mean and stand your ground, unashamedly. Sure, she's great with defending others with a keyboard and hard-hitting evidence, but bulking up the courage to face cruelty like this head on? It's admittedly a bit more intimidating.

However, at her scolding, Moose has the decency to look abashed, casting his eyes to the floor.

One of the jocks, Streaky, rolls his eyes and gestures to her head. “Jeez, why don’t you loosen that ponytail of yours, Mary Magdalene.”

Blinking at the name, Betty furrows her brows and inhales sharply when Reggie grimaces and avoids her eyes at the questioning glance she gives him.

“Excuse me?” she folds her arms, hoping to appear confident instead of suddenly self-conscious. Pursing her lips, she realizes they’ve gathered a small crowd of nosy students. 

“What?" he continues mockingly. "Your mom stop making you go to Sunday school?” 

“Alright, alright." Reggie suddenly intervenes with a raised hand as he regards his friend. "Cool it, Streaky.”

“No.” Betty retorts, proud that her voice hadn't wavered as her eyes narrow. “By all means, enlighten me. Why did you call me that?”

She’s genuinely curious. Sure, she knows most of the guys on the team by name, but she’s never really held a conversation with any of them—save for Archie, Moose and Reggie. Like Reggie, Streaky is notorious for being blunt and crass, but Betty's never once had a full conversation with the guy, so she wants to know what the heck he's talking about. He's an acquaintance at best - heck, they all are! And based off the behavior displayed only moments earlier, she’s glad of it.

“Come on.” Streaky laughs, near mockingly. “The ‘good girl’ act? Not everyone forgot about your stint with Chuck last year. And then Needlenose Jones? Maybe you took some pointers from your loose-legged sister. How’s she doing by the way?”

“Okay, that’s en—”

Before Reggie can finish, Betty’s arms snaps out as she slaps Streaky across the face—the noise echoing loudly in the school hallway as people begin to gasp and whisper amongst themselves, leeching on to the drama like vultures.

Her vision blurs with angry tears and she catches Reggie’s eyes before turning on her heel to walk away.

It takes everything in her not to sprint down the hall and hide inside a bathroom stall for the morning. She ignores both Dilton and Reggie calling out for her and pushes forward, power walking until she’s finally away from the crowd and able to wipe at her eyes with rough swipes of her hand.

As she walks to class, there’s only one thing on her mind. What did Streaky mean? About Chuck and Jughead? Sure, there was an angry divide amongst opinions over her Blue and Gold article getting Chuck kicked off the team sophomore year… and then her petition to _keep_ him off of it last year when she wrote an exposé that listed claims of girls coming forward to share their stories on how he’d harassed them... Wanting to avoid a public smear against the school and his family, Coach Clayton kept his son off the team. Not everyone was in agreement with that, but that was fine. Freedom of the press, freedom of opinion. As long as Chuck was off the team and staying away from girls, Betty was fine with the backlash that came from her article. 

Though she isn't one to delve into school gossip, Betty thinks she would've been aware of some type of gossip surrounding her. Surely, if something was going around, she’d know. If not from Cheryl and her inability to keep from passive aggressively insulting her every chance she got, then from Kevin, who somehow seemed to know everything about everyone at all times.

And for that jerk to bring Jughead up?

That, she knows about. It's no secret about Jughead's association with the Southside Serpents now. She'd been called it all - serpent slut, snake, bitch, southside slut, etc. The teenagers of Riverdale aren't exactly the brightest bunch in the department of insults. But Mary Magdalene? That's a new one. 

Her chest tightens at the thought of the messy breakup and she finally stops, leaning her back against a random locker as her eyes close.

“Betty!”

Betty’s eyes snap open as she turns her head toward the sound, watching as Dilton comes jogging her way from around the corner.

Grimacing to herself, she grips the straps of her backpack and slowly pushes herself off the locker.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says before she can ask why he followed her. His grip on the box in his arms shuffles to alleviate the weight of it, and she offers to help carry it before he’s shaking his head. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks. I just… You didn’t have to do that for me back there.”

“Of course I did." she frowns. "Those guys are jerks. They shouldn’t treat you like that.”

His lips curve slightly, eyes regarding her with wry amusement as he shrugs. “Well, you sort of get used to it after a while.”

“You shouldn’t.” she counters seriously. “No one should.”

At her adamant tone, a few seconds pass by with a strange sort of silence before he’s speaking again, his voice lowered now. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re…you know…like _that_.”

Betty exhales through her nose and hugs herself, digging her fingers into her arms and playing with the stitching of her denim sleeve. “I’m not." she defends without venom. "But even if I was, they have no right to judge.”

He grins lightly at her, reaching over the box to push his glasses up again. “Hey, do you want to head to class early? I can tell you all about what I’m working on?”

Thankful for the switch in topic, Betty’s lip curve upward in a grateful smile as she looks into the pile of bits and bobbles inside his box. They’ve got AP Science together, so she nods in agreement to his suggestion. “Okay, sure.”

“Great!”

“Are you building something?”

Dilton nods with a proud glint in his eye. “A Nuclear Fusion Reactor.”

She listens as he begins to describe his work, but for a few irritating moments, she's distracted by how disappointed she feels over Reggie's behavior and the way he'd avoided her gaze during Streaky's insults.  

Frowning to herself, she ignores the ugly twinge in her stomach and thinks, _what more did you expect?_


End file.
